


Anchor

by Mordhena



Series: Anchor [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mark of Cain, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 20:51:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3425183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Mordhena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 10x14 fic.</p><p>Sam comforts Dean after the fight with Cain</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anchor

Dean lies in the darkness of his room, fretfully rubbing at the mark. It still thrums with the energy of holding the blade. It makes his skin itch, his muscles ache, and leaves him with the vague sense that if he moves from this spot he will dry heave or worse, throw up. 

He had to get away from Sam. Every time he looked at his brother there were flashes of blood and gore. Sam's screams for him to stop, screams for him to wake up. Even now, if he closes his eyes he can see the blood, hear the screams. He wonders if he will ever look and just see Sam again.

When the door opens and Sam slips into the room, Dean has to suppress the urge to snarl at him and drive him away. He knows his brother senses something went down in the fight with Cain that Dean is not telling him. He knows that Sam is hurting, he knows that, because Dean is hurting and that hurts Sam. Dean lets out a breath and tries hard not to close his eyes. He can't be in the same room with Sam and let those flashes assail him.

Clothing rustles as Sam strips and then his long lean frame is sliding into the bed behind Dean. His heat is wrapping around Dean like a blanket. Dean twitches, half irritated by the closeness. He keeps his face to the wall. Then, Sam is edging closer pressing himself along Dean's back. One arm snakes across Dean's waist his hand covering Dean's where it incessantly rubs the mark. His fingers curl over Dean's in the darkness his skin brushing against the mark which flares with the contact and Dean can't hold back the growl in his throat.

Sam's face is against the back of Dean's neck, his lips pressing there, mouth opening on his skin, the wet glide of his tongue makes Dean shiver. It feels cold. Dean feels like a summer night, too sultry-sticky and he realises he's begun to sweat. 

"Sam..."

"I'm here. I got you."

Dean turns over. He can't see Sam's face in the darkness and the flashes don't come. He closes his eyes, holds his breath. Sam is solid. An anchor. He seeks Sam's mouth with his own. Finds that cool tongue and slides his own against it. The mark flares and thrums and Dean growls low. Sam's fingers dig into Dean's shoulders hard enough to bruise him and Dean pushes Sam onto his back. His cock is suddenly achingly hard, throbbing in time with the mark's pulse. Dean pins Sam under him devouring his mouth with famished kisses. 

Sam bites Dean's lips, catches the well of his bottom lip between his teeth and nips sharply enough to draw blood. The taste of it, coppery on his tongue brings another bright flare from the mark and Dean is maddened by it. His skin prickles his muscles tense. He pushes to his knees between Sam's thighs.

Sam mutters something that Dean can't hear beneath the buzzing in his ears. Blood roars in his veins and the mark pulses fast. Dean shoves Sam's thighs further apart, spits into the palm of his hand, smears the saliva across Sam's hole. He barely hears Sam's cry when he pushes himself into tight heat.

It is rage and lust and a dark pulse that pushes him onward his body reacting to the thrumming ache in his arm seeking relief from it, seeking satiation. He moves in a red haze, barely aware of what he is doing until the rage tightens, compressing into a sizzling ball low in his gut and then it releases in waves and Dean cries out falling through darkness and red. He lets himself be swallowed up spinning through it until he lands against Sam's chest and the slow, tearing sobs wrench from his core and the hot tears spill over his cheeks and all he can do is choke out, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Sam is solid. An anchor. 

"I know. I got you."


End file.
